When Eyes Speak Louder than Words

Friday May 30, 2025/3 Sivan 5785/Parashat Bamidbar

שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃

Take a census - literally, “lift up the head” - of the whole Israelite company by the clans of its ancestral houses…(Bamidbar 1:2) 

Hevre/Friends,

This past Wednesday night Andi and I were in Boston to attend the Keshet gala celebrating 24 years of transformative leadership from our founding CEO, Idit Klein, who will be stepping down at the end of July. It was a magnificent tribute to someone who literally changed the Jewish world by building a national organization that trains communal professionals and organizations to be more welcoming and inclusive of LGBTQ+ individuals and families, that provides safe and affirming spaces for young LGBTQ+ Jewish kids to gather and be seen, and that mobilizes the Jewish community politically to advocate for justice and equality. Serving as a Board member at Keshet is a source of tremendous pride to me, and the evening itself was a fabulous lead into Pride Month.

Over the years, Idit would say that she could envision a time when Keshet would no longer need to exist because the world will inevitably respond to the call to build societies fully embracing of sexual and gender diversity; that, to adapt Dr. King’s metaphor, the rainbow of the moral universe will bend towards justice. Sadly, today that dream feels distant as hard-won rights of the LGBTQ+ community come under attack, especially those of trans people. The courageous and sacred work of Keshet is as urgent as ever.

At a Board meeting yesterday morning, Idit shared some words of Torah that gave us insight into the genesis of her lifelong commitment to justice work; a journey which began on a harrowing day during her grandfather’s imprisonment at Buchenwald. On that especially dark day, he was suffering terribly from the abusive labor he was forced to undertake, moving massive boulders around a quarry with his bare hands. Failure to comply was sure to trigger a fatal bullet from one of the Nazi guards supervising on a bridge above, but he simply couldn’t hold the rock one more second. He dropped it. 

Looking up to see if he’d been caught, his eyes locked with those of a Nazi soldier wielding a rifle. But instead of aiming his gun at Idit’s grandfather, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sandwich, tore it in half, and threw one part down to the broken man below. Idit owes her very life to that unanticipated gesture of mercy, and no less so, her sense of purpose to build a world of compassion and justice. She attributes this life-altering exchange to the revelation that occurs when you look into another human being's eyes, recognize your own humanity in them, and respond with love.

Rooting this in a beautiful teaching from this week’s Torah portion, Bamidbar, Idit referenced a comment from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, z”l, on the wording of its opening command to take a census:

 שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃

Take a census - literally, “lift up the head” of the whole Israelite company by the clans of its ancestral houses…

Rabbi Sacks interpreted the Torah's wording to mean: don’t just count people and render them a faceless number. Lift up their head and look into their eyes. See in others not just their utility, but their sacred humanity. Weave together a community of souls, not just bodies. If only more such encounters took place, imagine how differently the tragedies of the past and present might have unfolded.

After Idit shared her powerful story, I couldn’t help but think of another story of eyes locking, with a very different ending. On our Israel Solidarity Mission of February 2024, the first person we met was Ronen Avisror, the photographer whose photos grace all my messages, who’s from Netiv Ha’Asarah, a moshav so close to the Gaza border that on October 7 terrorists paraglided into it in order to unleash their savagery upon its residents. Ronen, hiding in a small shed, trained his camera’s lens on the incoming attackers, locking eyes with one fast approaching. But rather than recognizing his shared humanity with a vulnerable and terrified Ronen, the terrorist and his comrades proceeded to brutally murder 17 members of the moshav.

Looking into the eyes of others, too often we don’t see who and what is really before us; we see who and what we want to see, who and what we’ve been taught to see: an enemy; a criminal; a lowlife; a racist. We ought to look at another with eyes open enough to see the actual person before us - their story, their pain, their needs. But, too often we also fail to see the terrifying truth staring back at us: hatred; bigotry; malice. That blindness can be deadly.

These are tragic, sobering, and clarifying times. As we strain our eyes looking for a way out of the madness, stay alert to those who would do harm. And, also stay focused on the search for eyes of decency and goodness. They are out there. Lock in your gaze and let it lead you to real and meaningful partnership. And no less, comport yourself so that when another sees your face, looks into your eyes, you will be recognized for your humanity, your integrity, your dignity.

With continued prayers for our ability to bring home all the hostages, protect the soldiers, heal the injured, comfort the bereaved, and build a lasting peace in Israel and around the world, and with blessings for a Shabbat Shalom,

Dini

Photo Courtesy of Ronen Avisror